


Treating the Wounds

by killerweasel



Series: Welcome Back [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV Series)
Genre: Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Blood and Injury, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28640133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel
Summary: Hastur has no idea what he's up against.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens)
Series: Welcome Back [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076207
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Treating the Wounds

Title: Treating the Wounds  
Fandom: Good Omens (TV Series)  
Characters: Aziraphale, Hastur  
Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley, Hastur/Ligur  
Word Count: 1,204  
Rating: PG-13  
A/N: After Episode 6  
Summary: Hastur has no idea what he's up against.

"Stop looking at me like I kicked your puppy into the sun or something." Hastur lurches into the kitchen, breathing hard. His pale skin looks even whiter than usual and there is sweat running down his face. "You didn't do it on purpose."

"I _hurt_ you." He wrings his hands. "If you don't mind me saying, you look horrible. I think you should be in bed while you recover. Have you been using the paste Crowley made?" The rude noise from Hastur's lips makes Aziraphale frown. "Do you think he made something to harm you? Why would he do something like that?"

"Demons don't help other demons. Stuff is probably poisonous or will make it worse." Hastur clutches his chest for a moment. When he takes his fingers away, both his palm and the shirt are stained with crimson. "Fuck, that hurts."

"Why must all demons be so stubborn?" Aziraphale takes a step forward. "You are going to go to your room and use the medicine Crowley made or I'll..."

"Or what?" Hastur gets up out of the chair. The smile on his face is far from nice. "You'll smite me again? I fucking dare you to."

"You forget, my dear, this is my home. Guests need to behave." Aziraphale snaps his fingers, causing the room to shift. There's a slight disorientation as both angel and demon appear in the guest room. A second snap throws Hastur onto the bed. The demon grunts as the wind gets knocked out of him. "Either you put it on yourself or I will restrain you. Up to you."

"You wank-winged, frizzy-haired, little angel! You can't do this to me! I'm a fucking Duke of Hell!" Hastur starts to sit up, fire blazing in his black eyes. There's another snap and he finds himself chained to the bedposts. Holy energy flickers through the metal, dancing along the symbols carved into the manacles. "How _dare_ you!"

"You'll find those chains are impossible to break. You'll also find they cut you off from your powers." Aziraphale crosses his arms over his chest and waits for the words to sink in. Hastur snarls something rude in his direction. "Normally, this isn't what I use them for, but they'll do the trick. We had these made for Valentine's Day as a gift to both of us. There's a matching set for me." He clears his throat as a blush rises up his neck. "Never mind."

"If you touch me, I'll tear you apart." Hastur thrashes from side to side, trying to pull himself free. The chains don't budge. A snap of his fingers does nothing. He pauses in his efforts, looking nervously at Aziraphale. "Forget I said the last thing." He takes a deep breath. "Take them off."

"No."

"Why not!?"

Aziraphale walks over to the head of the bed. He leans in closer. "Even though Crowley drives like a maniac, going all the way to the tiny cafe to pick up the bakery order will take time. He won't be back with Ligur for at least a few hours." A tiny smile crosses his lips. "Besides, I don't trust you to behave if I take them off. You'll do something both of us will soon regret." With a sigh, he reaches over to the bedside table and picks up the bowl of paste. "Honestly, you're worse than Warlock when he needed to take some medicine."

He sits down on the bed next to Hastur. The demon's eyes are wide and frightened. "It will only take a moment." He frowns at Hastur's bloody shirt. "This needs to be out of the way." A snap not only removes the shirt, but restores it to its original condition. "Much better. Now, let's see what I need to deal with. Oh, that looks horrible. This is what happens when you let something fester for two days before doing anything about it."

"Hurts like I got kicked by a mule." Hastur winces at the sight of the exposed wound. The edges are burnt while the center is still raw and bleeding. Lines of infection are radiating in all directions from the injury. "Wait." His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips. "If I swear on Ligur and Satan and everything else, will you take the chains off first? I'll hold still. I will."

Aziraphale stares at him for a moment before snapping his fingers. The chains go back into the box in the closet. "From what I remember, this might sting for a moment, then it should numb everything. Ready?" He waits for Hastur to nod. Being as careful as possible, Aziraphale spreads the paste onto the wound. He can tell the moment the herbs start to work because Hastur's body relaxes under his touch.

"I shouldn't have done what I did. It was over the top and a bit ridiculous. It's been a rather stressful couple of days." Aziraphale looks away. "My apologies."

"Eh... I tend to bring the worst out in people. It's one of my skills." Hastur keeps his hands at his sides, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. Being cut off from his powers had been terrifying and he wasn't about to have it happen again. "I think we should probably keep any mention of the chains to ourselves. Not sure how Ligur would take it."

"Agreed." He's fairly certain Crowley would find the entire thing hysterical, but Ligur wouldn't be amused in the least. Quickly adding a second layer of paste to the first, he makes sure to coat the entire wound. "I should probably put some bandages over this."

Biting his lip, Hastur chooses his words carefully. "I still think it's weird Crowley went through what he did to bring Ligur back. Demons don't do things like that. And angels don't help demons. You two are different."

"We're our own side." Setting the bowl on the table, Aziraphale grabs the bandages and gauze. "While you can't miracle the wound healed, you should be able to remove everything that way. You'll need to wash off the old medicine and put new paste on once a day. I'll make sure Crowley mixes up a few more batches."

"Thanks." Hastur touches the edge of the bandage carefully. "Still aches a bit at the center, but I can't feel any of the rest now." He takes a deep breath. "Were you two serious about letting us stay here for a few more days?"

"We have the room." Aziraphale shrugs. "So long as you don't decide to attack us, you're welcome to be here. It was Crowley's suggestion. He mentioned you two would have to fight as soon as you got back to Hell to prove Ligur was at full strength. He also said you'd be up to your necks in entrails and viscera." He makes a face. "Anyway, I'm feeling a bit peckish. I think I'll whip up a bit of brunch. You're welcome to join me."

Pulling on his shirt, nose wrinkling at the lack of stench in the material, Hastur sits up. "Yeah, I could eat."

"Fantastic." Aziraphale gives a little wriggle of joy. "How do you feel about crepes?"

"Never heard of it."

"You're in for quite the treat. Come on."


End file.
